The Perks of Being a Writer
by the one a.m. writer
Summary: Castiel Novak writes a story about writing, search histories, and almost being arrested. Destiel.
1. Chapter 1

_Castiel shares a story about search histories and arrests._

 _Me looking up tourniquets and how to perform first aid on a gunshot wound at 1am: somebody secretly spying on me is very concerned_

* * *

The Perks of Being a Writer

By Castiel Novak

~o~

There is a police officer reading my journal.

I should preface this by saying, fellow writers, that this won't happen to you- a very specific set of circumstances led me to this moment. For example, making a plan to kill the president, even in jest, is against the law. But the police aren't going to go through text messages to check if someone is joking about killing the president. However, if said texts come up as evidence in a different investigation (say, one of child pornography) they can and will investigate.

Enter Gabriel Shirley, my idiot friend. He didn't actually do anything wrong, although he knew some people who did. (I _warned_ him!) To prove his innocence, he handed the officers his phone.

The officers knocked on my door later, holding a full-page picture of screenshots of my friend's phone.

"Hi, Castiel Novak, correct?"

"Yes…"

"Mind if we come in?" the tall one asked. I looked up (and up… and up) at his face. He seemed kind enough, and he wasn't glaring or pointing a gun, so I nodded and directed them to the couch.

"I'm Officer Wesson. This is Officer Winchester," he said.

"We just have a few questions," said Officer Winchester. He was rather good looking, and I was finding it hard to ignore that. Luckily, I am a professional person when I need to be, and I convinced myself to interact with the officers normally.

"About…?"

"These," he said, handing me the pictures.

The screenshot showed texts. Written on the to-line was "cassbutt."

"One time!" I muttered to myself. "One time I misspeak!"

Officer Winchester chuckled, before catching his partner's disapproving glance and shutting up.

From Gabriel: **What do you think of the new education policies?**

My reply: **_The president can go to hell._**

 **I agree.**

 ** _Seriously, give me a sniper rifle. I will shoot him._**

 **How are you gonna get through his security?**

 ** _I will parachute from a helicopter into the whitehouse. Let's go. You can be the helicopter pilot._**

 **I don't know how to fly a helicopter.**

 ** _I do. I looked it up._**

 **Of course you did.**

 **Speaking of, how's it going?**

 ** _The Beta Project?_**

 **No, the other massive time-consuming work you're doing, dumbass.**

 ** _I do not need your sass._**

 ** _Irene's giving me trouble._**

 **How so?**

 ** _She's too unbalanced._**

 **And?**

 ** _And I need to work on her purpose. Now shut up so I can get some work done._**

 **Yessir.**

Officer Wesson looked at me as I finished reading. I recognized those texts. The Beta Project was a new five-novel series I was working through, bouncing ideas off Gabe as I went.

"Um…" I didn't know what to say.

"We have to investigate if someone threatens to kill the president," Officer Wesson said.

"I… it was a joke. I wouldn't kill anyone," I protested quietly. I really wish I'd done more reading up on law, but somehow, that got pushed to the side. I know the intricacies of several models of gun instead. Do I say anything? Do I plead the fifth and insist on a lawyer?

Officer Winchester nodded. "Probably, but we have to investigate anyway, y'know?"

I nodded.

"We'd like to go through your search history, if that's all right," Officer Wesson said.

"Why?" I protested, an instant before I could think about maybe not obstructing their investigation. Was that illegal?

"You said you looked up how to fly helicopters."

That is true. I grabbed my laptop and opened it up.

Whoops. There was an… interesting section of one of the Beta Project novels up. I swiftly saved and exited before handing it to Officers Wesson and Winchester.

Officer Wesson, sitting across from me, began to work. I wanted to see the screen, but didn't know if they'd take offence to that. I sat quietly. What was in my search history? Well, I'd been researching for the Beta Project… right now, the characters were working through a problem involving-

Shit.

I'd been looking up about five types of explosives and the electrical layouts of your typical factory.

That can't look good.

Sure enough, Officer Winchester turned the computer around with several sites open, their data telling me how to explode a factory.

"Do you recall reading through these sites?" he asked.

I nodded, my mouth dry. Was I going to go to jail?

"You seem to have come up with the information on how to explode a factory."

Once again, I nodded.

"Do you intend to explode a factory?"

I shook my head.

"Can you please tell us what this information is for?"

"The Beta Project," I managed finally. "Irene- that's the one I texted about- she blew up the factory. I had to learn how to blow up a factory."

"Irene… the unstable one."

"Yes. Her purpose is a little skewed right now, but I'm working on it. She'll kill people. She killed people in the explosion, and it's because she's unstable, but she has to have a reason. She wouldn't just kill people. She's not a serial killer."

The officers shared a look. Officer Wesson looked at me, suddenly cold and unkind. Downright terrifying.

And I realized that I'd never mentioned The Beta Project was _a book._

"It's a novel!" I shouted, as blood pounded in my ears and the temperature of the room dropped. "I'm sorry! I didn't kill anyone! Irene isn't real! She's a character in my novel!"

Officer Winchester had stepped toward me, but now he stopped and looked down at me where I sat, shaking with fear.

"The search history, that's for the novel too?" he asked.

I nodded.

"And why you looked up how to fly a helicopter?"

Again, I nodded.

"What about the assassination plan?"

"That was a joke," I whispered. "That's not in the novel."

Officer Winchester smiled. Officer Wesson grinned too. "It's all fake. False alarm. You had us going for a bit, there."

"I forgot I didn't say it was a book," I said, embarrassed.

"Can we see your novel?" Officer Winchester asked.

A few clicks later, the draft was open on the computer screen.

"Can I go get my journal?" I asked. "It's got all the stuff for the new novel. With the bombs and helicopters."

Officer Wesson nodded. I darted away and returned with the journal. Officer Wesson took the journal, and Officer Winchester took the computer with the first draft of the second novel on it.

I appreciated how careful Officer Wesson was with my journal. He didn't crease any pages, and he didn't bend the spine. Every so often, upon coming across one of the pages involving the things I'd searched, he would hum and nod. It was comforting, because it felt like passing an inspection. I suppose I was passing an inspection of sorts.

Officer Winchester, meanwhile, was quickly scanning the novel. I kept my eye on the page number.

Page 32 was where my screen had been before. When I said interesting, I meant gay sex. Detailed descriptions of gay sex.

To my horror, Officer Winchester paused.

I'm sure I blushed as he looked at me.

He began to speak. I almost missed it, because I was too busy being embarrassed that the attractive police officer in my house was reading my quite frankly vivid descriptions while I was in the room. _This is exactly why I don't interact with editors while they read my work._ (I speak with them after they've finished.)

"You're a good writer," he said.

"Thanks," I muttered, very relieved that he said nothing about the... well. That.

Officer Wesson looked over. Casually, Officer Winchester closed the computer lid before he saw anything. "He checks out," Officer Winchester said.

"Yeah," Officer Wesson agreed. He handed me my journal a tiny bit reluctantly. "Sounds like a good book."

"C'mon, Sam," Officer Winchester said. "We can buy his book later. Let's go."

On my way out the door, I smoothly handed Officer Wesson one of the little promotional thingies. It was a card with the website and a tiny ad on it.

Officer Wesson smiled. "Dean said that because he wants the book, not me."

I stared blankly for a second before I registered. "Oh," I said eloquently, turning to hand the card to- Dean.

"Thanks," Dean said. "See you around."

"See you," I said quietly to their retreating forms, halfway to their car.

Nice job, Castiel.

Nice job.

~o~

Three months later, the first Beta Project novel was released.

It was an instant hit. It was very popular among my age group, which included Gabriel. I forced him to purchase a book rather than freeloading off his connection to me.

It also included officer Dean Winchester.

At a book signing in Kansas, I studied people's faces to pass the time. I gave myself thirty seconds to identify the most prominent feature, or what I'd describe first in a novel. How would I draw this character through my words?

 _A dusting of freckles,_ I thought immediately. _And green eyes that seemed to absorb the sun._

"Hi," the owner of the beautiful eyes said. "Remember me?"

"Dean!" I exclaimed.

Dean grinned.

 _An open, infectious smile._

"I, uh… I wanted to buy your book. Gotta read the rest."

I smiled tentatively, not knowing what to say.

 _Nervous honesty showed- Stop it, Castiel. Stop it. Conversation. Communicate._

"I'll, uh… I'll sign it," I said. Very smooth. I have such a way with words.

Dean handed me the book.

I signed the typical way, in what Gabriel calls my showoff signature. "For Dean," I wrote.

I had maybe two seconds to decide to write something different.

 _I should write my number._

 _I should definitely not do that._

"Thank you for not arresting me," I wrote instead in tiny, neat letters. I handed it back to him.

Dean read the message, and laughed.

"See you around," he said. I watched him go.

The next person approached me. I signed, and smiled at them. "Your name?"

"Jessica."

"To Jessica- Happy reading," I wrote…

* * *

 **I'm breaking this into two chapters because it's long.**

 **Note** **from the author of a story about a fictional autobiography of an author: Off days are really nice for writing. Especially when they aren't actually off days and you're just taking a break because you stressed yourself out the point of getting sick.**


	2. Chapter 2

_it took me longer to edit for the site and post than to write because aforementioned sickness_

 _I have a short attention span when sick_

* * *

Six months later, the second novel was released.

Personally, I thought that was ridiculous, because I hadn't really started on the fourth one, and the third one was still several drafts away from done, and I'd started working eleven months ago. I would not be able to keep up the six month schedule.

The people informed me that after the second novel, I would have a devoted fanbase who would be willing to wait longer for releases.

So I went to book signings again. I had another one in Kansas. For some reason, this made me antsy.

I paid attention to the faces. I realized I was taking note of freckles and green eyes. I was looking for Dean.

Calm down, Castiel.

Gabriel showed up with coffee. "How's it going?" he asked, handing me a Starbucks mug.

"You're an angel," I said instead, taking a sip.

"I know, honey. How's it going?"

"It's going well. Do you remember those officers?"

"Oh, you mean nine months ago when you almost got arrested? That was gold! What's up?"

I fidgeted a little as I said, "Dean bought my first book. He might come back."

"Oooh." Gabriel leaned on the table and looked up into my eyes. It was a violation of personal space, but I was used to it.

"What, Gabriel?"

"Someone's got a crush."

"No," I replied quickly.

"Yeah. Yeah you do."

"No," I insisted.

"Ohhhkaayyy. Let's see if I can find your friend in this crowd. What's he look like?"

"He was the shorter one. Kind of golden brown hair. Green eyes. Freckles."

"Green eyes and freckles, hmm?"

"What?" I snapped.

"See, I've read your books, Cassie," my obnoxious friend pontificated, waving a finger at my face. "When you describe a platonic someone, you use height, build, and hair and skin color. When you describe a romantic someone, you use eye color, unique marks, and face shape."

"No," I protested again.

"Methinks the lady doth protest too much."

"Anna! Hey, Anna," I called, speaking to the lady who was in charge of the event. "Can you come here a sec?"

Anna and I are good friends at this point, having spent multiple signings together.

"This man is bothering me," I stage whispered. "A little help?"

She also knows Gabriel, who often shows up at the events.

Gabriel glared at me while Anna fake glared at Gabriel. "Are you bothering the author, Gabriel Shirley?"

"No, ma'am."

Anna looked at me. "Is he bothering you, Cas?"

"He thinks I have a crush on the police officer."

"He does."

"I don't."

"Is that the Dean Winchester you talked to for half an extra minute last time?" Anna asked.

My eyes widened. _"Anna!"_

"That was six months ago," Gabriel said, impressed. "And you remembered?"

"I remembered that was the only person he talked about afterwards," said Anna, smiling. "I've been keeping an eye out."

Gabriel grinned. "I'll join you. Enjoy your coffee, Cas!"

I glared at him.

Dean showed up a little while later. I smiled brightly at him, avoiding looking at Anna or Gabriel. "Nice to see you again," I said.

"You too," said Dean. "You're a fantastic writer."

"You bought the sequel?"

"I did. Would you do me the honor of signing it?"

All his fancy language was complete charming bullshit, but it worked on me. I signed with extra flourish.

"Write it for Dean?" I asked.

"Actually, could you write your number?" he asked in return.

I'd actually gotten that one before, from complete strangers. Always female and younger, up until this point. But this was one that actually tempted me.

I was very, very excited. I thought I might spontaneously combust. Because here I was about to debate (again) whether I should write my number, and Dean just made the decision easy.

I kept my cool, though.

I tilted the book so he couldn't see, and wrote.

Dean fidgeted as he watched me write. I closed the cover of the book and handed it to him, so he didn't know if I'd done as he asked.

The crowd swept him away the next instant, and I returned to signing.

After the event, Gabriel came bounding up. "Soooooo. I saw your pretty officer."

I nodded casually.

"Did you write your number on the book?" Gabriel asked.

I only grinned.

"You _did!_ Oh my god! You gave him your number on the book!"

"Maybe!" I yelled, getting in my car and shutting him out.

"ASSHOLE!" his muffled voice sounded through the closed door.

~o~

I later asked Dean about finding my number written in the book.

He said he'd bumped into someone and she'd dropped her bag, and it caused just enough disturbance that he'd forgotten to check until later. He and Sam- Officer Wesson, his best friend- went out for lunch somewhere, and he'd mentioned the book.

"So did he leave his number?" Sam had asked.

Dean just said he checked. I asked Sam, too. Sam said Dean's eyes had gone comically wide, and he practically dove into the bag to retrieve the book. Reverently, he opened the cover to reveal my number.

"He _did!_ " said Sam. "Call him, dude!"

"When?"

"Tonight. Or you're going to freak out until you do. I know you."

And that same night, I got a call from an unknown number.

"Hey, is this Castiel?"

"Dean!"

"Hey! I, uh… d'you wanna go out sometime?" Dean asked in a rush.

"Sure!" I said…

~o~

Writing often involves odd search histories. Mine just happened to get me investigated. And the end result? I have a pretty fantastic boyfriend.

Dean thinks I'm dating him for his law and policing knowledge. I told him that wasn't entirely true. That's a lie. I'm completely exploiting him for his knowledge.

~o~

 _Dean, reading over Castiel's shoulder, exclaimed, "Hey!"_

 _Castiel grinned at him and deleted the last paragraph. "What do you think?"_

 _"I think it's a cute story," Dean said. "But I wasn't nervous when I talked to you at the book signings."_

 _"Yeah, you were," Sam said. "You totally were. Castiel, are you going to write, or are you going to help me move Dean's stuff into YOUR house_ _?"_

 _"It's now Dean's house too, and my belongings are already here. I don't need to do anything," Castiel pointed out._

 _Sam rolled his eyes. "What are you writing, anyway? Finally finishing novel 5?"_

 _"He's writing about us," Dean said._

 _Castiel clicked save and close. "It's not done yet."_

 _"That story, or the fifth novel?"_

 _"Both. You'll see."_

~o~

The fifth novel finally came out a couple years later. Dean and I had been dating since he first asked me out. Dean is now the first person to read and edit each book, and he practically knew the book by heart from reading it so many times, but that didn't stop him from showing up at the same book signing in Kansas he attended for every novel.

I watched him come in the door. Usually, Gabriel and Anna said hello. I could tell he was confused that neither of them showed up.

They weren't there because they are both children who can't keep a secret.

All of the fans knew who Dean was. Some of them let him pass them, but no one ever insisted that they move for him, so it was still a little while before he reached the front of the line. I walked to the front of the table to greet him.

"Will you sign my book?" he asked, grinning.

I signed. Then, I wrote.

I turned the book around to face him, and dropped on one knee.

"Will you marry me?" I'd written.

Dean gasped, and grinned. I'd rendered him speechless. I'm not sure I would have heard an answer, anyway, because everyone around was too busy applauding. My cheeks burned red, but I was happy.

Dean offered a hand to me, and pulled me into a hug. "Yes," he barely whispered.

Someone must have been listening, and someone must have relayed Dean's answer to the crowd, because suddenly the applause became deafening, punctuated with whistles.

Anna asked me if she could input something to this little story.

"You were kissing," she said. "First it was cute, then it was annoying, because you wouldn't stop and I had an event to run. I felt really guilty about telling you to stop because you had to sign books…"

"So you sent Gabriel," I sighed.

Anna grinned. "Guilt-free!"

Gabriel broke us up with a loud "Heyyyyy, lovebirds, keep it PG in here!"

I glared at him.

"Ow. The glare burns. Seriously, you have some book signing to do. Go."

After the event- well- I'm going to follow Gabriel's advice and keep it PG.

* * *

 **Who else feels the constant struggle of making up linebreaks ~o~**

 **Advice from an author: Writing takes you places.**


End file.
